my picture-a-day mini blogs

Groceries are limited here, you can forget about yellow bell peppers, broccolini, ground turkey, whole wheat flour, coffee beans, enchilada sauce, marshmallows and mushrooms. Of the limited supplies, usually there is at least one item not available at all. Once it was eggs. Other unavailable items have been: milk, bananas, orange juice and swiss cheese.

When we first got here I wished I'd brought an egg carton. Now I'm use to buying eggs like this, $6 for thirty at a time, "un plateau." Always brown, except around Easter when they import a few white ones for coloring, and always with the feathers and all.

A certain part of me was jealous when we bought Mike his binoculars for his birthday. I learned so much when I researched them. And it's not like I can just "borrow" them to look at those birds in that tree at the equestrian center whenever I want to. So I justified buying a less expensive pair. 'Click' on "BUY NOW" on the www.Opticsplanet.net website. "Your order has shipped" the e-mail said the next day. Ahhhhhh! So satisfying!

Weeks went by and I kept anticipating it in the mail. When I left for the States, it still hadn't arrived. The mail here is unpredictable but still, 2 months is a long time, even for Niamey. I expected it to be waiting for me when I returned. I did and it wasn't.

So I wrote to the company explaining the matter and politely requested a tracking number. The next day I got an e-mail from QA (Rimma) with huge apologies. Apparently, the order was interrupted just before it was mailed. They never put a shipping label on it yet they had already charged our account. When they checked into it, they discovered that not only did they not ship it, but they somehow charged me twice for Mike's as well. She promised to reimburse our account immediately and send the binoculars along with a gift as an apology.

How great is that?! Thank you Rimma (whoever you are). It's rare to find a company that admits it's mistakes. Perhaps now I can identify those two different species of cranes, black birds, parrots, and yellow breasted weaverbirds. I can't wait!

Peter's nephew Peter calls Milla's pumpkin bread "A-loaf" for its vitamin content. I baked one of the huge african pumpkins and got ten cups of gorgeous pumpkin that I froze. Tonight is my last night as co-president of the American Women's Club of Niger and I am taking a cake-shaped A-loaf to the meeting. I made a lime-ginger glaze for the cake, but it didn't smile for the picture like this one did. I doubled the recipe, forgetting that the recipe already makes two, so I have a surfeit of pumpkin bread. I made two with the glaze, one with the last of my walnuts, some tiny cupcakes for kids snacks, and, my favorite: one with prunes. I'm going to be an excellent senior citizen.

We've been home three weeks. When I got off the plane, a notice read: "Mme. Bernardin, your bag, # la-la-la has not arrived." Air France said it was going to be put on the next plane. Three. Weeks. Ago. So they knew where it was then, what's the problem now? That bag holds the camera charger, among other things. I can't recharge my camera's batteries, so the laptop is my only camera, which explains the quality of my pictures lately. I blame Air France. I hope they read this.

Camille's second grade teacher from the Portland French School, Geraldine, has moved with her husband and tiny daughter to Kano, Nigeria! They will be teaching there for two years. They have a lot of pictures up of their house and the school, and the pictures inside the classrooms look just like Camille and Stefan's school here--actually all the pictures look like they could have been taken in Niger. Link to their blog.

From the beautifully written Holland Cutter review of the exhibition of collages and shadow boxes by Joseph Cornell, "a poet of light, a connoisseur of stars, celestial and otherwise. An archivist of time...when you are born at sea, you follow what light you have, you make your own." The show runs from 6 October to 6 January for anyone within getting-to distance of the SF MOMA, lucky dogs that you are. Years ago, Laurel insisted we go see some of his work in an exhibit, she told me I would love it. She was right. I remember standing in front of the piece they've used here for the catalog cover, enchanted.

Last year, when the car arrived, there were two surprises inside. We had tossed Stefan's bike in the back, and it was still there. And at the last minute, when we left the car in MamaLana's driveway in Virginia, instead of throwing away the empty cup in the cup-holder, I put a plastic venti Starbucks cup in the glove box. (I had another one that I brought with me on the plane, but I've since dropped it and it broke.) The one in the glove box survived the trip and more.

For one year, I've used the same Starbucks cup: to the computer in the embassy CLO lounge, ice water to the stadium, iced tea to go fabric shopping, to the pool when I watch kids swim. Drinking out of a venti Starbucks cup is like a vacation and a mini-home-away-from-home all in one. Since summer 2006, here in Niger, I have used the same cup, lid and straw. As you can see, they are in perfect shape.

At a Starbucks in Davis, California this summer, I bought a lovely peice of low-fat banana chocolate-chip coffee cake, and asked for a glass of water.

"We have paper cups over there for water," said the Starbucks cashier.

"Can I have it in a big venti cup with a lid, please?" I asked.

In an acusing voice, rolling her eyes, the cashier said to me: "Are you going to recycle it?"

The extreme irony of this question sort of stunned me. "You're asking the wrong person," I said.

I told her my story. She had me re-tell it to her co-worker in charge of recycling, who was touched. I was sort of hoping for low-fat banana chocolate-chip coffee cake for life, but really, cup-reusing is it's own reward.

Seeing all those cups thrown away in the trash this summer made me feel sort of sick and helpless. I had planned to save all my Starbucks cups I used while home, and bring them back here. I did reuse them at home, but piling them up to pack and bring here made me feel like I was collecting trash, it seemed neurotic, so I didn't send them. Now I regret that. Funny the difference a continent and a culture make.

After our backpacking trip with the kids, we headed north to Mount Shasta to visit my father and sister Ludmilla. When I last saw my father, his wife had just died and I had to leave him to get back to training at the FSI while he waited for a hearse to take her body away. Since then, he still grieves and the strongest image of him in my mind was my departure. He now lives with my sister and niece (Sonja) and my sisters' boyfriend, Jeremy.

My sister Nina came down with my nephew Peter and his girlfriend Clara. We had a splendid evening one night when Clara and Peter sang for us and then my sisters and I sang rounds with guitar like we used to in our youth. Dina's parents joined us as well. I didn't get to spend the quality time I wanted with Milla and my dad so after we left, I returned for 3 days with my sister Alex and the kids. Dina stayed in Portland to relish in her time alone to Goodwill shop and visit friends. Oh that Dina is a real fox! Anyway, it was great to spend the time driving in the car with Alex and more one-on-one time with Milla and my dad. He turns 84 today. Happy Birthday pop! I know you can't stand it but I'm glad you're still around.

I do so much love Portland! We visited our friends (Dave and Elizabeth, Kathy and Lee) and hung out with Alex, Nina, Peter, Helen, and Elliott at Powell's Books, Hawthorne Street, our house on Reed College Place, dinners at Dave and Elizabeth's while our kids play with each other, the gondola ride up to OHSU, our dentist (Dina's cousin Roger), and Dina's colleagues at Hanna Andersson. I did miss friends I really wanted to see (Vivian Tong, Paul Fick, and colleagues at OHSU to name a few).

The condo Rajesh and Kshama let us stay in was very nice. It's right on the Park blocks and walking distance to PAM, the Pearl, and right on the MAX metro line. All of our time on vacation was spent with great friends and family. We wasted no time and really enjoyed ourselves despite the heck-tic schedule. Even shopping at Ikea and Whole Foods was pleasurable (when you don't get to go for a whole year).

The flight home was another story. We had last minute pressures to clean the condo, pack, box some books for shipping, buy and deliver consumables to Dave and Elizabeth's house to be shipped to Niger, and get to the airport to drop off our rental car before flying. I have nothing good to say about Delta Airlines except that they are a partnership with Air France. There is no comparison. We flew from Portland to Atlanta. They overbooked the flight so we had to wait over an hour while they took someone's luggage off the plane and then blamed the weather for the delay. The flight attendants weren't very friendly. We were hoping to miss our connecting flight to Niger so we could stay in Paris for a couple of days and would have had it not been for a flight delay to Niger. The kids barely slept the entire 26 hours except for the last 4 hours coming to Niamey.

We were all zombies and still are a week later. The kids have been up most nights from 2AM until 5AM and then we all have to get up to go to school and work. I've overslept on several occasions and had no time for breakfast or coffee. One day in particular, I took my blessed home-roasted ground beans and filter to work, only to arrive to a full waiting room of patients. I don't do well before coffee but I was forced to perform and play doctor. It was 11:30 before I could sit down and have my first cup.

Last night I was reading "Three Cups of Tea" until midnight and planned to sleep in this morning. I was awakened by a patient at 8:30AM. "Welcome back!" I heard them say.

It was nice to be somewhere where I could understand the jokes. I really enjoyed all the small laughs. Calling a line of cute zipper purses "boygirlparty" --isn't that a great name? and this:

Isn't it funny enough that paid dog petters exist? Two of these businesses putting their cards right next to each other? How many "animal massage therapists" can Portland, Oregon need? I, for sure, would go with the one that thought up a great name and hired a designer.

Tanya's fabulous idea for a business: Doggie convalescent hospital, for owners that don't want to put their dog to sleep, but aren't home enough to take care their aging pet. I'm sure it already exists. They should contract out with the pet massagers. If people can think of it, it will be done, said my grandfather.

Our friend Lee's teenage daughter said to him, "Daddy, why don't you have bumper stickers on your car?" With a sigh Lee said, "Because once I got started I wouldn't be able to stop."

I saw: "I'd tell you to go to hell, but I work there and I don't want to see you everyday." Which is funny for me because I work at home. Alone.

Spotted by my sister: "Horn broken. Watch for finger."

And later I saw the companion: "Next time wave to me with all your fingers."

A very Portland one: Education is National Security.

Recently seen by Luanne: "Of course I'm in a hurry. I have to poop."

And from my home town: Honk if you've never seen a gun fired from a moving vehicle.

This time adjustment thing has been going VERY badly. Last year we had been in Washington DC for six weeks, so this was our first time adjusting to a.) a 26 hour plane ride, b.) a 9 hour time difference.

Lots of screaming and crying in the night, mostly by me.

All of us are awake ALL night, we all hear the 5 am call to prayer, THEN fall asleep. The first day we forced ourselves awake and were a little shocked that it was 3:30 in the afternoon. Since then we have been trying to be more Finnish and manly and dragging ourselves up by 9:30 or so, but still no one is sleeping at night.

Yesterday, I took Stefan out for a bike ride around and around the stadium, then home for a swim. I thought maybe he would sleep if he were worn out, but no. He fell asleep at nine, woke up around midnight, was awake ALL night, hungry, thirsty, going to the bathroom, picking his nose until he had a nosebleed, afraid of the air conditioner, afraid of a bug he's seen in Camille's room two days earlier that he was sure had migrated to his room and was now "ticking" unseen, unsee-able, in a corner, then he got up to ask me, "Which is bigger, an ant or a spark?"

He was all smiles for his first day of first grade though, clapping he was so excited, even on two hours of sleep for the past three nights.